


The Usual Fare

by SaunteringSprocket



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Confusion, First Kiss, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love Confessions, Romance, Some Humor, Some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 03:57:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19782766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaunteringSprocket/pseuds/SaunteringSprocket
Summary: Things feel strange when Aziraphale invites Crowley to his flat for the first time.





	The Usual Fare

Crowley entered Aziraphale’s bookshop with the same ease and flare he always did. Aziraphale had rung him with some urgency not long before, asking if he could spare a moment. With the end of the world stopped and Hell seemingly staying as far away from Crowley as possible after Aziraphale’s performance, he didn’t have many things to attend to, so he agreed to stop by. There was also the desire to assist his friend, but he would claim that this was a secondary motivation at best.

He strutted into the unusually empty – but quite usually quiet – shop. Looking around, he saw no immediate sign of his friend.

“Aziraphale?” He said somewhat more loudly than was probably necessary.

Aziraphale shouted something unintelligible from upstairs. Crowley raised an eyebrow as his eyes drifted upward. He could hear clanking, rustling, and something that sounded like shattering.

There was a muffled, “Oh for goodness…” that followed.

“What the Heaven is he doing up there?” Crowley said to himself, curious to know what could be so urgent, yet have Aziraphale so distracted.

“Just a moment!” Aziraphale shouted, fortunately more clearly this time.

Crowley had always been aware of the flat above the bookshop, but he didn’t know that Aziraphale actually used it. He assumed that Aziraphale spent all of his time among his treasured books, never bothering with the actual living area above. Thinking on it, he realized he didn’t know much about his best friend’s domestic habits. He could wager a guess on a great many things about Aziraphale’s private life, but felt like he should really have more direct knowledge than he did after 6,000 years of friendship. True, most of the first few thousand years of their relationship had been based on brief encounters every so often, but they had been friendlier after establishing the Arrangement. At the very least, they had been close this last decade.

He wandered through the stacks and shelves of books while he waited, looking at the somewhat-still-newly replaced collection. He was sure that Aziraphale was disappointed with some of the shuffling of books. Adam, while helpful, was limited in scope based solely on his age-related imagination and knowledge of rare prints. Crowley wondered just how much of Aziraphale’s collection had been lost to the fire, never to be returned. He knew that Aziraphale wouldn’t be unappreciative, regardless of any losses incurred. He could have lost everything, after all. They both could have.

Just as Crowley’s mind began to conjure painful images of the recent events of near-Armageddon, he heard his friend’s voice from behind him.

“Oh! Good! You’re just in time!” Aziraphale greeted him with a wide, kind smile.

Crowley turned toward his friend with some confusion, straightening up and glancing slightly downward. “Just in time?”

“Yes. I thought we would do something a bit different from our usual fare.”

The situation was getting stranger by the moment.

“A bit different?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale walked toward the staircase. “Well, are you coming?”

“I suppose so.”

Crowley somewhat hesitantly followed Aziraphale up to his flat, taking note of the outdated décor as they entered. Aziraphale’s living space, appropriately and unsurprisingly, resembled an antique shop. Crowley had tended to enjoy adopting cultural changes as they came, but Aziraphale was always stuck a bit far in the past.

“I thought you had something important? It sounded urgent…” he said while considering a particularly old-looking wall clock. It looked as though it had to have been from around the 1800s. Despite what was likely impeccable upkeep, age had worn the wooden edges.

“Oh, I don’t know if I would say it sounded urgent,” Aziraphale said dismissively. “Wait just over there,” he gestured toward the corner as he quickly disappeared into another part of the flat, leaving Crowley by himself in a small dining area.

If they hadn’t been through so much together recently, Crowley would have been certain he was being tricked somehow. He supposed he still couldn’t be certain that he wasn’t.

“Aziraphale…?” He said, with some confusion and caution in his voice, appraising the small table set for two with candles lighting the dim corner of the room.

“Yes, my dear?”

“Why is there mood lighting?” Crowley felt himself growing more nervous.

“Oh! I just wanted things to look nice!” Shouted the disembodied voice now clanking around again in the kitchen.

Crowley jutted his jaw forward, eyeing the table. “Wanted things to look nice…” he uttered to himself as he paced the small corner.

“And the music?” He turned toward Aziraphale’s voice as he asked about the soft classical music coming from a record player set off to the side in the sitting room.

Aziraphale seemed to miss the question over the noise of glasses clattering.

“Ah, that’s alright,” he thought aloud, “didn’t need an answer or anything.”

This _was_ a far departure from their usual fare, as apparently intended. Aziraphale tended to be much more interested in charming public places to try the newest and best foods around the city. They would meet, share a meal, have a laugh, and go their separate ways. Tonight, however, did appear to be something special. Based on the sounds and smells coming from the area that Aziraphale had disappeared to, Crowley could only assume that he was cooking. He was _cooking_ them dinner. Six thousand years and never once had Aziraphale prepared a meal for them. He wasn’t sure that Aziraphale actually even knew _how_ to cook. Curiously, he had also never been invited specifically to the flat before. If his friend hadn’t been an angel, Crowley would have assumed that this was some kind of final farewell dinner.

It could still be some sort of finality. Perhaps Heaven or Hell had been in contact. Aziraphale had taken steps back from their friendship before. It was unlikely at this point, but not impossible.

At least he had the courtesy to say goodbye, Crowley thought.

Before the idea could be examined too closely, Aziraphale emerged in floral print oven gloves, carrying a full baking dish.

“It’s macaroni and cheese.” Crowley said flatly, looking at the golden contents of the dish.

“ _Homemade_ macaroni and cheese.” Aziraphale smiled as he set the food down in the center of the table. “Now… I wasn’t sure if it paired with white or red, so I’ve brought both.”

Aziraphale disappeared once more, returning with two bottles of wine to accompany the meal.

“Ah, perhaps extra glasses?” He seemed very nervous and distracted, adding to Crowley’s slowly increasing concern.

He wandered off and quickly returned with two more glasses.

Crowley considered the dish. “There’s quite a lot of it, isn’t there?”

Aziraphale blinked and looked at the table. “We’ve had more wine than this before.”

“No, the macaroni and cheese.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “Oh. Well. I suppose I got a bit carried away.” He patted his vest and invited Crowley to sit with him.

Crowley sat down at the table and leaned toward the dish to examine the food more closely. “What’s all this?”

“Breadcrumbs.” He said softly and practically beaming. “I baked it!”

Crowley nodded and started to pick up the serving spoon.

“Oh, please, just relax.” Aziraphale said before serving the meal and pouring the wine – two glasses each, one white and one red – still trying to convince Crowley that this meal would be delicious.

“I used three cheeses and _a lot_ of butter. Trust me, you’ll love it.”

Crowley picked up his fork and paused. This was all very strange. He was currently struggling to find something to say. He usually had something – a retort or a comment – _something,_ but tonight he was at a loss. He wasn’t sure how to respond to Aziraphale’s sudden interest in having such an intimate dinner. Not that their previous encounters had never been intimate, in a sense. They had grown very close over the last several millennia, but there was always a barrier there.

“So… was this it, then?” he finally managed, peering at Aziraphale from behind his dark glasses.

“Hm?” Aziraphale said, pausing the bite he was about to take and setting his fork down.

“The important thing. It was macaroni and cheese?”

“Oh! No! No, no, of course not.”

“So…” Crowley said, trying to elicit a more informative response.

“So.”

“The important thing?”

“Well… you see… it’s rather more complicated than that. When I rang you, I felt very confident.”

“And?” Crowley could hear the impatience growing in his voice.

“And… now I’m feeling less confident.” Aziraphale flattened his vest and pulled down his jacket, perhaps to cover his discomfort with the direction of the conversation.

“More confident about the macaroni and cheese, I suppose.”

“Oh, yes, I do think I’ve nailed that, as they say.”

“Not like that they don’t.”

“What?”

“Nothing. So. Important thing. Things to talk about. What’ve you got?” Crowley drummed some of his nervous energy out on the table.

“Right. Yes. Well…”

“You _really_ don’t want to talk about this do you?” Crowley relaxed a bit more in his seat, presuming that this nice gesture would be turning into a long night.

“I’m afraid I can’t say that I do.” Aziraphale looked down, focusing on the plate of food in front of him as he took a long sip of wine.

“Aziraphale, are you breaking up with me?” He asked with a smirk.

It was a joke, of course, but the sudden shift in Aziraphale’s face and demeanor made Crowley wish he could take it back immediately. He felt like he had made a terrible mistake. Aziraphale did not break his gaze with the table, but also stiffened more than his usually perfect posture. His face fell and he sipped more wine in silence. In the brief moments between the utterance and Aziraphale’s embodied response, Crowley felt his stomach sink, as if it were leaving his body. He felt lightheaded. He wanted to leave.

He didn’t let any of that show on his face, however. He was very good at that – keeping the thoughts on the inside. Or so he’d like to think. 

He considered that, had he been worse at it, this conversation likely would have arrived much sooner.

“Er… no. Quite the opposite actually.” Finally, Aziraphale looked at his companion.

Crowley was sure he heard that wrong. “Pardon?” He strained his neck forward a bit, as if the slight closing of distance would help him hear better.

“I thought… since Heaven and Hell are looking the other way…” Aziraphale gestured nervously.

He cannot possibly be using this excuse, Crowley thought.

“I just feel like perhaps… we should explore other aspects of our… erm… friendship.”

“What the Heaven are you talking about, angel?” Crowley slumped back in his seat again.

“Crowley. We’ve been friends for so long. And you’ve done so many wonderful things for me.”

Oh, for Satan’s sake, Crowley thought, He’s telling me he’s in love with me.

His mouth involuntarily opened in a rare instance of not being able to suppress his emotion.

“You mean so much to me Crowley. That’s… that’s why I wanted us to have a special meal. And to talk.”

“Aziraphale…”

“Yes, my dear?”

Crowley’s thoughts were racing now. He couldn’t be _sure_ where this conversation was heading, but there were enough hints to make what he thought was a reasonable guess. This wasn’t really in his demonic repertoire, to be honest. He wasn’t prepared to actually engage with any of these feelings. It should have been easier for the angel – his lot was used to loving everything in sight – but for demons? Crowley had avoided this conversation for a reason, but now, he didn’t have much of a choice.

Ultimately, he had two options here to deal with the situation playing out in front of him. Aziraphale was clearly uncomfortable getting this conversation to its logical – or, at the very least, assumed – conclusion. Crowley could either sit here and allow Aziraphale to struggle through it or take the reins of the situation himself.

“You don’t have to say more if you don’t want to.”

“No, this is important. Like you said. And besides, it’s why I invited you here in the first place.”

“And made dinner.”

“Yes, also the dinner.”

They both sat in momentary silence taking long sips of their wine. Once the glasses were empty, the silence was awkward.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale started to try to get the conversation back on track.

Crowley wasn’t sure why, but he felt compelled to revisit some of the more unpleasant events surrounding the almost-end-of-the-world. The words seemed to just slip out while grabbed one of the wine bottles off the table to ease the conversation along.

“When I asked you to run away with me… you said no. You said no _twice_. Why?”

“Crowley, you know why.”

“Why did you say no? So adamantly.” Even behind his glasses, Aziraphale could see the pain in his eyes as Crowley revisited their fight. The fight that happened so soon before Crowley thought he had lost Aziraphale to the fire.

“I… didn’t _want_ to say no. It was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do. But I felt it was necessary…”

“Necessary.” He nodded and took a swig of wine.

“You know that it wasn’t that simple, Crowley. It wasn’t just about the sides. There was so much at stake!”

“It broke my heart, Aziraphale.” Crowley was almost shocked at his honesty.

“It broke mine, too.” Aziraphale looked at Crowley with sincerity and sadness. Crowley’s words got stuck in his throat, leaving him feeling useless and unprepared. “I am so sorry, Crowley.”

Crowley nodded and considered the apology for a moment.

“Well then.” Crowley took another swig and leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. He could think of no better way to bring the conversation back to the original point than to say, “The angel is in love with a demon.”

“ _Crowley_.” Aziraphale scolded.

“So, how long then? Must be embarrassing having such strong feelings for your _hereditary enemy_.” Crowley was beginning to have fun with this, leaving Aziraphale visibly flustered.

“Oh, stop it. You’re in love with an angel! I’ll bet… you… that’s… quite embarrassing as well.”

Crowley had never brought up his feelings for the angel, but there had been enough clues. Rather than push the thought away, Crowley decided to use this to his advantage.

“Nah, not really.” Crowley leaned his cheek on one hand. “That part was always easy, angel.”

Aziraphale was surprised by Crowley’s openness. It was plainly obvious that Crowley had been harbouring these feelings for a long time. He always seemed to show up in the right places exactly when needed. He proposed the Arrangement that kept them coming together so frequently. He always considered Aziraphale and the things that were important to him.

After a pause, Crowley resumed his slouched position in the chair. He picked his fork up and poked absently at the now cooling macaroni and cheese in front of him.

“So… where did you want this conversation to end, angel? What was the plan here exactly? Invite me over, woo me with a homemade meal and excessive amounts of wine, get me in be-”

“Nothing of the sort!” Aziraphale had a scandalized look on his face, mouth open. “I just thought that this was a bit of a special occasion.”

“Special occasion…” Crowley repeated, thoughtfully, placing his fork down on the table. “Well, only one thing to do, then.”

There was nowhere left to go with this conversation. No words or paths or thoughts that could accurately convey how Crowley felt. How he had felt for so long.

He reached a hand across the table and gently placed his fingertips on Aziraphale’s hand. Slowly, he removed his glasses and looked the angel in the eyes.

“And what would tha-” While Aziraphale tried to get his words out, Crowley stood up and leaned over the side of the table, now taking Aziraphale’s hand in his. He placed a very gentle, but very deliberate kiss on Aziraphale’s lips.

“Oh.” Aziraphale turned a shade of pink that Crowley thought suited him well.

Crowley sat back down and relaxed into his seat, smiling wider than Aziraphale had ever seen.

“You know, angel, we could have been doing that for the last 6,000 years…”

“Oh, I doubt you…”

Crowley raised his eyebrows.

“No… you didn’t!” Aziraphale was shocked.

“I absolutely did. Six _thousand_ years I waited for you, Aziraphale. _Six thousand_!”

“I suppose I have more to apologize for, then. That must have been quite frustrating.”

“You have no idea.”

While Crowley was looking at the angel in disbelief – at Aziraphale’s obliviousness, at the current situation, at the fact that he had finally acted on his feelings – he was also still unable to hold back a real, proper smile.

“Well you seem rather pleased with yourself.”

“Extremely.” His grin only grew.

Aziraphale leaned in a bit, sharing a small, shy smile. “I suppose I am, too.”

Crowley finally took a bite of the meal that Aziraphale had prepared.

“You know, not to change the subject, but you’re right. This is good.”

And there the couple sat, talking and laughing and trading stories well into the late hours of the night. Six thousand years of shy smiles, helpful deeds, and quiet longing solved in an evening. Millennia of fighting with each other, for each other, and together culminating over a meal of slightly burnt macaroni and cheese that didn’t quite pair with red or white. Occasionally, they tested the new waters by gently touching each other’s hand during the conversation, both quietly hoping that nights like this would become the new usual fare.


End file.
